


Brought to Brightness

by eyres



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bucky Barnes is an Afghanistan War Vet, Catfishing as a plot device, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Romance, Steve Rogers is still Captain America, modern!Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-29 04:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyres/pseuds/eyres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.</p><p>When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> MTV's Catfish is a show where two guys (Nev and Max) help people who are unsure if the person they met online is real or not. That's all you need to know about the show. 
> 
> For this story, I functioned under the assumption that Catfish happens just like they say it does in the TV show, and I excluded some boring parts of the show for flow reasons. 
> 
> This is probably the fluffiest thing I've ever written.
> 
> This work is complete and will be about 10k words and three chapters.

_To:[catfish@mtv.com](mailto:catfish@mtv.com)_

_From:[jbuchananbarnes@gmail.com](mailto:jbuchananbarnes@gmail.com)_

_Subject: My sister says you can help me_

_Dear Nev and Max,_

_My name is James Barnes and I could really use your help. About a year ago, I returned from Afghanistan after I lost my left arm in an IED. I was going through a really dark time and felt really alone. That's when I met Steve on a message board for returned military veterans._

_He was reaming out a couple guys for homophobic language when he first caught my eye. We started exchanging private messages and, pretty soon, I asked for his number. Ever since then, we text almost daily and talk on the phone as often as possible. It's been almost seven months. This guy has helped me through some of the darkest parts of my life and I think I may be falling for him._

_But I've never seen his face. Every time I bring up video-chatting or ask for a picture, he deflects by saying he's too busy or he's not comfortable with cameras or his job wouldn't allow it._

_Steve's an artist and he's always emailing or texting me little drawings he's done of his day, sometimes he's included as a figure in the background, but never so I can see his face._

_We both live in New York City, so I've tried to meet up with him but he always has an excuse, mostly about how crazy his work is. About three weeks ago, we actually set a date. I made reservations at a restaurant and got all dressed up: he cancelled the morning of the date._

_Despite all these warning signs, I can't turn my back on this powerful connection I have with him. He's saved my life and I think I've saved his._

_Please help me._

_James Barnes_

 

* * *

 

Bucky Barnes nervously tugs on his shirt hem and darts his eyes toward the Catfish producer sitting at his kitchen table, texting on her phone. She looks out of place in his plain kitchen, with her long pink nails and sparkling earrings.

"They'll be here soon," she said, looking up. And then she smiles, warm and kind. "Relax. I promise they won't bite. This'll be really easy. Just tell them everything. Just like we've talked about. It’ll be totally fine.”

Bucky nods and palms his phone. He likes her. Honestly, he's liked everyone he’s talked to so far from the show. They all seem like good, genuine people who really do want to help him. There’s no reason to be nervous.

His one hand trembles and he presses it flat on the counter. He spent four tours in Afghanistan, joined the Army after high school and just stuck around when it turned out he was great with a sniper rifle. He'd been sent to Ranger school after his first tour and spent his next tours in the Special Forces as a sniper. The most boring day there should've been more stressful than this.

Of course, all of that had ended when his arm had been blown off. He's only just been getting on his feet again after that had derailed his life.

The sweat sticks to the metal back side of the phone and he wipes it along his jeans. He pointedly turns and faces out the window. The brown and gray buildings of Brooklyn extend lopsidedly into the horizon and Bucky can just see the gleam of something that might be water in the gaps.

It’s September: the heat of summer finally giving way to the coolness of fall. That magical time of year when it’s not too hot and not too cold and the rains haven’t come and the sky is still full of warm sunshine and the air isn’t heavy around him. These are the times that good things happen.

He doesn't regret any of this, he tells himself for the hundredth time since Becca first talked him into sending that email in to Catfish two months ago, since they contacted him and said they would be helping him track down Steve. This needs to happen. This is right and good and Bucky can't go on like this. It's not healthy. His sister is right. Even if she is younger than him.

His phone chirps and he looks down at the lit-up screen, face up on his knee.

_Steve 9:58 am I can't believe how rude some people are. I just watched three people almost run into a woman carrying a huge bag down the street. You think people would be more polite._

Bucky can't stop the grin. It tugs at the corners of his mouth and then spreads across his face. It feels like the beat of the sun on a cold day. His stomach tightens with something that could’ve been butterflies if he were a twelve year old girl and not a 29 year old army veteran.

_Bucky 9:59 am And I suppose you were her knight in shining armor?_

_Steve 10:01 am Someone had to make sure she got home safe. Plus, I got rewarded_.

There's an image attached of a half eaten chocolate chip cookie on a small white plate, crumbs hanging on one edge and a carefully folded napkin tucked at the bottom.

_Bucky 10:02 am My hero._

He sets his phone down, screen against the counter. Maybe this (this producer in his kitchen, these TV guys coming, this push to find out who exactly is on the other end of the phone) is all a huge mistake.

He should’ve trusted his gut and never let Becca talk him into this. The way things are, the hundreds of tiny texts they send each other through out the day, the little pictures Steve draws just for him, the way Steve's voice is deep and just a little rough at the end of the day when they talk on the phone, it's good. It's not perfect or even ideal - not being able to see Steve or really know Steve. The physical absence is an aching burr inside that never really goes away, made worse by how close Steve feels most of the time. But it's all better than anything Bucky has had before.

He doesn't want to give this up - doesn't want to risk losing it.

Honestly, he never meant to let it get this far. He wouldn't have. Before he left, his relationships had been few and far between. Even before the service, he'd kept pretty much everyone at an arm's distance. But Steve's steady, open presence was so easy to rely on, to draw comfort from in a time that he needed it the most. He had been falling for Steve's companionship before he even fully realized how little he knew about the man outside their conversations.

There's a real possibility that, if he goes through with all this, he could lose Steve, lose that warm voice and the doodles and the easy conversations and the warm acceptance. He'd be alone again. There would be no deep voice asking about his day. No presence on the other end of his email or his message, interested in his opinions and feelings on everything. Interested in him. Caring about him. Supporting him.

But Becca was right. If this is all a lie; if Steve wasn't a bi, late-twenties army veteran originally from Brooklyn, if he didn't care for Bucky the way he cared for Steve, then Bucky needs to know. And he needs to know now. He needs to know before it's too late and his heart gets really really broken.

Maybe they could be friends, he tells himself, even if everything is a lie. If Steve is a bored middle aged guy, maybe they can at least still talk and Bucky can focus on finding a relationship with someone else, a guy that's real and present and tangible. It will be healthy. This is like ripping off a bandaid from a mostly healed cut.

This is good. This is necessary.

The producer stands up and tucks away her phone. "Okay. They're gonna knock on the door in about 30 seconds. It'll be Nev and Max, a camera guy and two other producers. Just let them take the lead - tell them everything we talked about. You'll do fine." She smiled again and slips to stand in the hallway that leads from the living room to the back of the apartment. He can just see her shadow against the sunlight coming from under his bedroom door.

Bucky shifts again, wishes he had decided to put his prosthesis on. He stares wildly around the room once more. The place is neat and the furniture is second hand but in good condition. There’s no porn on the couch cushions and no beer cans on the coffee table. His homework for the community college classes he's taking is neatly stacked on his desk with his laptop next to it. There’s even a lavender air freshener plugged into the wall somewhere, thanks to Becca. He looks like a respectable adult. He slips his phone into his pocket and walks toward the door. He's halfway there when the knock comes and he swallows hard. _Here goes nothing._

He opens the door.

It's easier than he expects. Nev and Max are open and friendly and they don't stare at his empty sleeve like some people do. They shake his hand and they're about his age and young and open. He finds himself relaxing despite the camera being set up in the corner of his living room, just behind the blue couch, and the producers clumping in the kitchen around the table.

"So," Nev says when they sit down on the couch, Max on the blue tufted arm chair that had been a hand-me-down from the previous tenant. "Tell us about Steve."

Bucky feels the smile spread across his face before he can stop it, coming even despite all his questions and fears. He ducks his head and pulls at his hair. It's long now, almost past his chin. No one here is telling him to cut it.

"When I came back from the war," he says, "I was messed up. I'd just lost my arm. Got my discharge and I didn't even want to go in public. I was living with my sister then. After a month or so, I started going to the VA, doing group therapy and someone one-on-one and working through the PTSD. When the Battle of New York happened, it was hard to get into the center every day with all the trains that were down. One of my therapists recommended this online site for vets where they can share their experiences. Just talk you know? Sort of like a 24/7 group you can always show up to. It's a private, locked site and you have to verify you're a veteran to the moderator before you're let in."

"So you know this guy really is a vet, then," Max says. He's holding a small camera in one hand, down below his chest, but he's meeting Bucky's eyes like he really cares.

It feels weird, laying his heart out like this. The only other person he’s confessed this all to is Becca. Bucky isn’t the type fall head over heels, get all mushy and want to get married with 2.5 kids and a dog and a yard. But. Somehow this has been different. This has felt like it was meant to be. Except for all the ways it wasn’t. Like how he couldn’t even confirm this about Steve.

"I checked with the moderators a couple months ago. Turns out, while they do require initial verification, they don't do any checking to make sure the name the person signs up under matches what they said in their verification. Plus, they don't require photo ID so anyone could pass the verification if they knew enough info about a military guy," he shrugs. "I get why they don't match up those things, but it doesn't help me out."

Nev frowns. "So this guy could theoretically be the family member or friend or something of someone who's actually been in the military."

"Yep," Bucky looks down. He knows they’ve seen this before, but the embarrassment tugs at him. He presses on, wanting to make them understand how he had gotten to this point. ”I first noticed Steve on the forums about three months after I joined. I said it in the email I sent you guys. He was telling some guy off for calling another poster faggot," he stops, cringes. Becca would’ve smacked him if she was here. "You guys can bleep that out, right?"

Max nods.

"After that, I started noticing his posts. He was always looking out for the little guy, defending anyone the rest of the people would be making fun of. I started replying, even broke up a few of his arguments when things got too heated."

Steve had been passionate, articulate, driven. There had been weird things he hadn't known (Bucky still thinks he only gets about a quarter of the pop culture references he makes) but he had been genuine and funny and Bucky had been drawn to him. Like a moth to a flame, to be cliché.

"Then we started messaging. He gave me his number about a month later. He was going to be out of the country, he said, and couldn't be on the forum as much but he still wanted to talk. To me. We talk every day now."

That could be an understatement. Their conversations are not always deep or meaningful - but they last all day sometimes. It's the little stuff. Something funny a coworker does at Steve's work. A pretty cloud that Bucky sees on his walk. Annoyance at the subway or the coffee line or a delay at the airport.

The heavy stuff is there too. When Steve wakes up from nightmares and Bucky is still awake because he couldn't ever calm down enough. The guilt that eats at both of them. The uncertainty of the future. The urge to just curl up and stop thinking for awhile.

When Bucky had pushed himself to sign up at the community college, Steve had been his cheerleader and his coach. He'd sympathized through the brutal first quarter when Bucky had struggled through one Intro to Engineering course. And cheered when he'd finished at the top of the class.

"You have a dream," Steve had said on the phone, the night Bucky had signed up for a full load of classes the next quarter.

"Don't let anyone tell you that you can't do this."

His phone has been quiet during the conversation and Bucky resists the urge to pull it out of his pocket, to check it, make sure he hasn't missed a text from Steve. It's hard. He finally had to tell Becca about Steve when he couldn’t keep his eyes off his phone during one of their frequent dinners.

"We talk about everything. Our day. What makes us happy or sad or angry. I was doing better with therapy before this. But Steve... He understands me. We're both from Brooklyn. Both raised Catholic. Both fucked up. He makes me laugh when no one else can. I didn't even realize how deep I was until he went away for a week."

"What happened?"

It had been a few months into their texting. Steve had been texting him about some co-worker that was frustrating and Bucky had replied with sympathy and a funny picture of a grumpy cat he'd googled. And then, no response. Steve hadn’t texted back that minute, or that hour, or that afternoon, or even that day. There had been no speaking bubbles. The message had said delivered. But nothing. Even when Bucky had finally texted again right before he had gone to bed: nothing.

At first, Bucky had been unconcerned (Steve had gotten busy or distracted) and then a little annoyed as the hours dragged. The next morning, when his phone had still been empty of any word from Steve, the annoyance had turned to a bit of peeved anger. Couldn’t he have least let Bucky know he wasn’t going to be around for awhile? Then Bucky had sent another message after his afternoon class – and that message had been returned as undeliverable. He remembered standing in the afternoon sunlight, blinking down at the message. Maybe Steve had lost his phone? Or broken it? But then Steve would’ve emailed. Bucky remembered swallowing and feeling the unease come low in his gut.

Then, the next day, the Triskelion collapsed and super-secret military helicarriers designed by Hyrdra had crashed into the Potomac with countless men and women dead and missing. And none of Bucky’s messages went through to Steve’s phone.

"I'm pretty sure he's still in some sort of military group. It doesn't seem like active deployment but I know he still works for some government organization. Around the time the Triskelion went down, he stopped texting for awhile. I was worried," he clears his throat and tries not to remember the sleepless nights and the fear in his gut. The words are an understatement but he can’t bring himself to lay this part of him bare. ”I was worried that he'd been there. I knew he worked in D.C. and so many people died. It was all over the news.”

Bucky has to stop. He takes a deep breath and a producer is there with a glass of water. He drinks deeply and then gives into the urge to check his phone. He pulls it out of his pocket, punches in the passcode. Steve's half eaten cookie is still in his messages from just a few minutes ago. He doesn’t elaborate any further about that week Steve was missing.

Doesn’t tell them that he called up the few army contacts he had in D.C., trying to get a casualty list. How, when he had finally gotten the list after calling in pretty much every favor he had, he had spent a torturous afternoon marking off every Steve/Steven/Stephen that had died (there had been 18 men) and imagining that all of them were all his Steve. That he would never know Steve’s last name. Never be invited to the funeral. Never know what had happened. Those days weren’t a good time.

"About three days after it all went down, he started texting me again from a new number. He apologized a bunch but never really explained. Just said work had gotten crazy. I asked if he was okay and he said he was.” Bucky had been too relieved to be pissed at the time. He had spent too many days imagining Steve dead at the bottom of the Potomac to ask too many questions.

“Then, he told me about three months ago that he had moved to New York and was staying with some friends in Manhattan. I said we should meet up and he kept saying he was busy with work. I let it slide for awhile but then I started pressing again. We set a date. I made reservations at this swanky place near the Park. I was gonna do it right, you know? Wine and dine him. Tell him how I felt. How I feel."

The hurt is still fresh and it burns a little as he remembers: the suit he had picked up from the dry cleaners the night before, the flowers he had ordered, the careful route for the after dinner walk that he planned. “He canceled the morning of the date. Said something had come up at work. Becca, my sister, convinced me to email you guys the next morning and I haven't tried to meet up with him since."

"Any chance he's Hydra?" Max is smiling like it's a joke but Bucky can see the tightness around his eyes.

Ever since the helicarriers fell and the Triskelion collapsed, it’s one of those secret fears that everyone has. There’s been a couple stories in the news - couples married for twenty years and suddenly one of them is a member of Hydra and wanted for high treason.

Bucky shakes his head. "I've got no proof outside my gut. But no, I really don't think he is." He’d be lying if he’d said it had never crossed his mind. Steve had gotten mysteriously busy right around the time all Hydra members had been put on every terror watch list in existence. But this was Steve. Bucky’d be willing to bet that Pope Francis was a member of Hydra before Steve.

"Have you guys ever talked about how you feel?" Nev leans forward. "Do you think you're a couple?"

"Not in so many words. That's something I wanted to talk about in person. I want to be. And I think he does to. I just don't understand why he won't meet me. Or let me see his face."

"Have you asked to video chat?"

"Nope. He said in the beginning that he's not good with technology and he doesn't like cameras. I didn't really question it until he didn't want to meet."

"Can you show us some of what he's sent you?"

Bucky pulls out the phone and goes to his iMessages. He hesitates and then scrolls up to the day before. There's a photograph of little cartoon figures on lined notebook paper. Captain America in full regalia is pointing out of the paper from below a rainbow. The caption beneath says "Captain America wants YOU to support equality."

"He's good," Nev says, turning the phone and looking closer. It makes Bucky feel a little proud. "A lot of political stuff?"

"Yeah. He always drawing Captain America as like a liberal, hippie, commie type. Fighting injustices all over the world. I think he has a little crush." He huffs a little. He's teased Steve about it a couple times. When Steve had moved to New York just a few days after the press had announced that Captain America had officially moved into Avengers Tower, Bucky had given him shit. He liked that easiness, that familiarity with someone's little quirks and likes.

"Anything else you can tell us about him?"

He stares down at his phone. At the little cartoon and the hundreds and thousands of little messages behind it. "I just want to meet him. Sometimes he... Sometimes he talks like he used to look different. Like something happened to him in the war. And I wonder if that's what makes him not want to meet or take a picture. Like he's ashamed of how he looks now. If you talk to him, tell him I don't care what he looks like. I've told him. But tell him again. Whatever it is, it's not about how he looks."

It's something he's thought a lot about. Piecing it together from Steve's few comments and the lack of photos, Steve had looked different before the war. He'd never given specifics but Bucky always wondered if he was embarrassed by scars, scared how Bucky would react to how he looked. It didn't matter though. Bucky had started falling in love without even seeing him. It didn't matter what he looked like.

Nev nods. "We'll be in touch, okay? Tomorrow. Let you know what we find out."

Max sets down his camera. "You've seen the show?"

"My sister made me watch it when I told her about Steve."

"Then you know how rarely these have happy endings. I just want you to prepare yourself. And really really know what you want from this going in."

"I know." Bucky hesitates, mulls the words over. "Whoever the person is, they helped me through some tough stuff. And I've helped them too. As long as they weren't lying about that, I think we can at least be friends."

"Good attitude." Nev stands up and shakes his hand. The camera powers down in the corner. "So, tomorrow then? And we'll meet your sister then too?"

"Yeah, sounds good."

After they leave, Bucky can't help but pick up his phone. Steve hasn't texted again.

 _Bucky 11:02 am We should get lunch. My treat. There's a little Irish pub in Brooklyn that I think you'd like_.

The delay is only a few seconds before the little bubbles appear. He waits. They go on for awhile. Finally:

_Steve 11:04 am I'd love to, Buck. But my work is so busy right now. When we do go, it'll be my treat :)_

Bucky stares down at the smiley face and wishes it were that easy.

_Bucky 11:04 am It's a date_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be posted as soon as I finish editing! I welcome any feedback or criticism or anything else!


	2. Chapter 2

Becca comes over in the morning. She looks like she just rolled out of a beauty salon.

Bucky rolls his eyes at her. "Gunning to get on the next season of Jersey Shore?" he asks when he takes the paper coffee cup she brought him from her hand, setting it on the table to cool.

"Keep up, big brother. That show was cancelled even before the aliens attacked New York." She grins, unabashed. "We're going to be on TV!"

He laughs, but it feels forced. ”Becca. This is my life." He tugs her hair, wraps the long strand around his finger. He knows his nerves are showing all over his face. "Be good."

She sets her drink down and hugs him quickly. He can feel her gently rubbing his back, the same way she's done since they were kids - the same way she did in the hospital when he came home. "I'm just teasing. I want this to be real for you. I want it to all work out. You deserve it, Bucky. The way you've overcome." When she pulls back a little, her eyes are a bit splotchy. She sniffs, tucks her face down. "If anyone deserves a happy ending, it's you."

"You're gonna ruin your pretty makeup, Becks," he says. He gentles his hand over her head, drops a kiss to her dark hair. Their parents have been gone since Bucky was 22. Just them. He wouldn't have made it through the first couple months back, before he could even muster the courage to go to the VA, without her. Besides Steve, she's been the steadiest thing in his life since Afghanistan, through rehab and going back to school.

True to her word, when the producers and the camera and Nev and Max all show up again, she's calm and serious.

"So you probably know him better than anyone?" Nev asks her, once the cameras are rolling.

She leans into him, comforting and supportive and protective all at once. "He's my big brother. We were close and kids and close as adults. I'd do anything for him."

"And what do you think about Steve?"

The skin between her eyes pinches, tight like when she’s ready to fight. "Bucky deserves a guy who'll be there for him and support him and love him. If Steve's that guy, then great. I'll be really happy for them. But he better have a good reason for dragging Bucky on like this. If this has all been just an act, then," she flexes her fingers. "Well, Bucky's taught me a few things."

She looks so serious and Bucky had to cover his mouth to hide his smile.

Nev grins. "Okay then. Let's show you what we got on your Steve.” He flips open a laptop and leans in. "We didn't have much to go on. So we started with the email address you have for him. No hits. Which is kind of weird. But not creepy, strange, serial-killer weird, if you get what I’m saying. Then we tried both cell phone numbers you have for him. The old one that he stopped answering and the new one he's been texting you with. The first one showed up as unregistered - no surprise since he hasn't been using it for awhile. The second number showed up as being registered to a Sam Wilson. Does that name mean anything to either of you?"

Bucky glances at Becca. She shakes her head and then he does the same. It's a fairly common name but it doesn't ring any bells.

"We got an address and another email so we did some more searching and found this Facebook profile."

The computer spins around a wide smiling man with dark eyes looks up from the profile picture. He's wearing a t-shirt that says Air Force across the front and holding a smiling baby in his arms.

Bucky stares down at him. He's handsome, eyes friendly and face open. He looks warm, happy, solid. Everything he associated with Steve. A flutter of excitement stirs in his chest. "And the kid?"

Nev shakes his head. "His Facebook is pretty locked down and he didn't respond to our friend request. We did find him on LinkedIn. He is, or was, a counselor at the VA in Washington DC. The address registered to the phone was also in DC, so we figured we had a match. We called there and they said he'd resigned a couple months ago but they couldn't give us any details beyond that."

"Around the time Steve moved to New York." Bucky breathes deeply. It fits. Except the name. And the military branch. "Anything else?"

"We reached out to a guy who'd tagged several picture of him. He said Sam's never mentioned anyone named Bucky to him - but he hasn't talked to Sam in over six months and he didn't know if Sam was gay, said they never really discussed it. He did say that Sam had dated at least one girl that he knew of but that was a couple years ago. The little girl in the picture is his niece. And as far as this guy knows, Sam hasn't been in a relationship recently."

Bucky stares at the picture, trying to imagine Steve's voice actually belonging to this Sam. "But he told me his name was Steve. And that he was in the Army. Not the Air Force. Why would he lie about that?" It's little pieces that don't fit. Lies that seem pointless given the intimate details they had shared otherwise. Why wouldn’t he have just told the truth? Bucky hadn’t ragged on the Air Force that much. Had he?

"These are all questions you need answers to," Max says gently. “You’ll need to ask him.”

"Maybe his middle name is Steve," his sister says from next to him. "Maybe he's really Army and he was just wearing an Air Force t-shirt because he lost a bet."

Bucky glances at her, incredulous.

"But, he's single. He's really been in the military." Nev taps the phone. "And you have a connection with him that has gotten you through a lot. I think you should at least meet him."

Bucky nods his head fast. That was never a question. Not yesterday and not now. "I want to. I really want to. I need to know. Maybe he has good reasons. Right, Becks?"

She smiles. "This is better than I was expecting," she admits. "I was ready for it to be some bored housewife from the Midwest who just got her husband to talk on the phone with you."

"Nope. I got a real boy." This time, Bucky doesn't stop the smile. He can deal with this, he repeats to himself. He can ask Sam or Steve or whoever in person and they can figure this out and he doesn't have to lose this. "You're pretty sure it's him?" he asks Nev.

Nev shrugs. "This isn't 100%. We don't have a lot of information to verify him with. But what we know fits. Without talking to him face-to-face, I think is the closest we're gonna get."

Everything feels fast. This morning he was well on his way to falling in love with a guy named Steve, who he'd never seen. Now there was a guy named Sam and a picture. He probably should be nervous. Or angry at Sam (Steve?) for lying. But he can't think past having answers. Finally getting to meet this guy face to face. "Wow. Okay. I want to meet him. Is that what comes next?"

"I'll call him. Introduce myself. And explain what we're doing. We won’t mention that we know about Sam - just tell him you want to meet. Unfortunately, we don't have his address here in New York so we can't just drive there. We have to let him come to us. It’ll have to be on his terms.”

Bucky feels the nerves kick up and he takes a deep breath. He'd been in Kabul with steady hands. He can do this. Steve will agree to meet. He will. ”Do most people agree to meet?”

Max shrugs. “We haven’t had anyone refuse or not show up yet.”

“Alright. Okay. Let's do it then. Nothing else to lose right?” He thinks of Steve texting him _good morning_ and _good night_ and shit about the Yankees and the Mets.

Nev grabs his phone and steps back from the table, not so far away that they can't hear him, but enough so that they can have a little privacy.

Bucky takes a deep breath, holds it in for a four count and lets it out. And then again. The anxious feeling eases and he waits.

"Hello?" Nev says. "Is this Steve?"

There's a pause.

Nev turns and gives a thumbs up.

Bucky listens as Nev introduces himself. Now and then, he thinks he can hear the deeper sound of Steve's ( _Sam’s_ , he corrects himself) voice over the cell phone but it's probably just his imagination.

"Bucky would really like to meet you. You've guys have meant a lot to each other these last few months and I think this is a good time to, you know, clear the air. Maybe start something. Maybe let him move on. And it's okay. He knows that you're not telling him everything about who you are. He just wants to meet you."

Nev listens for a moment.

"Look, man, I don't know barely anything about you. But I know Bucky is a really fantastic guy. And I think you know that too. Something is always crazy with work but you make time for the important things."

There's another pause and then Nev's eyes widen in pleasure and he makes the OK sign.

"Great, perfect. No, that sounds great. We'll meet you there. Tomorrow afternoon? Great. Thank you. I look forward to meeting you, man."

He hangs up and spreads his hands, smiling wide at Bucky. "We're gonna meet up with him tomorrow. At this park outside the city in Westchester. He says he'll be there around 2:30."

* * *

Bucky's sister stays over that night, makes him hot chocolate and popcorn and orders in meatball subs. He works on his engineering homework for awhile before he gives up and shoves it under the couch. He can't focus. Everything is churning around him.

She flips on the TV and curls next to him. "You'll be okay? If it's really this Sam guy or someone else?"

He puts his one hand in her hair. "Becks, I'll be okay. I promise." And he will be. It won't be easy if Steve has lied about so much - just hasn't cared enough about their relationship to tell Bucky the truth. But he'll be okay. He has Becca. He has his classes. He has a future. He'll thank the guy for getting him through a dark time and move on with his life.

"I just - you've been doing so much better. Since you met him. I'm scared I'll lose you again."

"Hey. Hey. Look at me. I'm doing better because I've been working hard and going to therapy and going back to school and I have a wonderful sister who supports me. Steve may have helped kickstart things. But he's not the sole reason I'm doing better." He presses a kiss to her forehead and lets himself believe the words.

She sighs. "I believe you. Just know that I'll be here for you and I love you? Even if he is Hydra or something. We'll kick his ass together."

Bucky huffs.

A news ticker is scrolling across the screen and Bucky watches it absently. Gold futures were down in trading. Unemployment has a slight decrease. Captain America speaking at anti-terrorism conference in Rome. Rain expected over the weekend.

The world is spinning on, unaware of what's facing Bucky tomorrow.

"If he's Hydra, I bet the Avengers would come help us out." Bucky nudges her side with his elbow. "Could you imagine? I bet you'd hit on Iron Man."

She chuckles, low and warm. And the night creeps on.

He dreams of the desert that night, wandering lost and alone and searching for Steve’s voice. It echoes off cliffs and canyons and caves, it rumbles in the clouds across the horizon and drifts across the dunes. He follows it, around bends and along rivers and over mountains. But it's always just out of reach.

* * *

They leave Brooklyn at noon the next day, wind down the busy roads to the greener hills and trees outside of the city. Bucky sits in the front seat and stares at the buildings.

Sam (Steve) hasn't texted.

Ever since Nev called him and told him about Catfish and the meet up, there's been no buzz or chirp. Not even the text bubbles. This was the first time since the days around the Triskelion that he hadn't woken up to at least one text. He doesn't know if Steve (Sam) slept well last night or if he had nightmares like he sometimes does (like Bucky did). Bucky doesn't know if his morning run went well or if work called and he had to go in early.

He doesn't know. And he may never know again.

His fingers itch to text Steve, to reassure him. To reassure himself. To apologize or explain or beg. But when he opens the window, all the words die before his fingers can touch the letters.

Bucky rests his head on the window and tries not to feel sick.

The park is mostly empty when they get there at 2 pm. Children are back in school. Dark gray clouds hang over the horizon and there's a cold breeze, but the afternoon sun is shining and turning everything golden and lovely. It's peaceful.

They sit on a picnic table near the front entrance and wait. Bucky sits in the center, knees drawn up, with Becca and Nev on either side. Max paces around the concrete. The camera crew sets up, their voices low and barely disturbing the quiet. Bucky chews at his fingernails until Becca pokes him.

At 2:25, a sedan pulls in but doesn't stop. A dog barks out the window as it goes by.

At 2:28, a truck rumbles through and breaks briefly when the driver sees the cameras, but then continues on into the park.

Bucky tucks his hand into his pocket and bites his lip. He wants to check his phone.

Three more cars go in and two more cars go out. But no one stops. No one is Steve.

"He said 2:30, right?" he asks, unnecessarily.

Nev nods.

Maybe he was in one of the cars. Maybe he already came and left. Maybe he saw Bucky and decided this wasn't for him. Bucky's sent only a few pictures over. Steve knows about his arm. None of this should be a surprise. Bucky still worries. He stares at his shadow stretching over the grass. Maybe Steve panicked and isn’t coming at all and he’ll never text or email or call again. And this will just be all over.

At 2:42 pm, a man in a baseball cap walks into the park. He walks quickly, head bent forward, and hands stuffed in the pockets of his blue jacket.

It's not Sam from Facebook.

He heads straight for them, like he knew they were going to be there, and Bucky stands up. It’s now or never. He’s ready for this. Somewhere behind him, the camera starts rolling.

"Sorry. I know I'm late," the man says and his voice is deep and warm. It's the voice from the phone. Bucky would know it anywhere. He doesn't take off his baseball cap and he doesn't look at Bucky. "I had to catch a flight."

Nev steps forward. "Steve?"

"Yeah, that's me." He looks past Nev and Bucky flinches just a little when their eyes meet. Steve's eyes are blue beneath the shadow of the baseball cap. "I'm sorry, Bucky. There were so many times I wanted to meet you. I just. I wanted to tell you the truth but things were so good and you were so… and I was scared. And I know that’s no excuse but you were my friend and I didn’t want to lose you.”

"Why would you lose me?" Bucky asks.

Steve is tall and well built, his chest stretches the white t-shirt he's wearing beneath his jacket. His shoulders are broad and his legs are long. There's no scarring, no disability, nothing that would explain Steve's disquiet about his own appearance or his reluctance to show himself.

Steve takes off his baseball hat, runs his hand through short blonde hair, looks up and meets Bucky's eyes squarely for the first time.

"Oh," Bucky says faintly.

Becca draws in a breath sharply.

One of the cameraman might say _shit_.

But Bucky is just staring at Captain America, standing there looking abashed and nervous and also like every super hero come to life, and it's all clicking together. "Oh. Okay," he says again. All the cartoon drawings of Captain America. The weird business trips. Looking differently before the war. When he missed pop culture references. The annoying coworkers Steve talks about.

He takes a step forward and Steve matches him. They're standing a foot apart and Bucky smiles, suddenly, feeling bright and happy because Steve had never lied to him. Steve was in the Army. Steve was an artist. Steve fought for the under dog. Steve was born and raised in Brooklyn. Steve wasn’t a part of Hydra.

Steve was really standing in front of him. Steve just happened to be Captain America.

"You're an asshole," he says and finds his voice is a little hoarse.

Steve's mouth turns down.

Bucky shakes his head and continues. "You are an asshole. You think I would've let this stop me from being your friend?"

"My friend?" Steve shifts closer and his eyes go down to Bucky's mouth, unmistakable in its intent.

"You're Captain America,” Bucky says carefully, very aware that this is all being recorded and he was an okay student - he remembers history class well enough. And he’s pretty sure he would remember if Captain America had liked boys. "I wouldn't presume..."

Steve kisses him.

The camera is rolling and a cold breeze is picking up and Steve's hand is warm and soft against his face, fingertips delicate across his temple and against his hair. Bucky thinks, wildly, that his baby sister is watching and then stops thinking because Steve's teeth are gently grazing his lower lip and when he breathes in, Steve is everywhere and tasting of mint and smelling of leather, and Bucky might moan but he'll deny it later, it's perfect.

Steve breaks the kiss and leans down so their foreheads are touching. "I've been wanting..." he starts.

Bucky laughs, low and quiet and happy, into the small space between them. "Buddy, you have no idea."

They have to break apart then. Introductions need to be made. Becca is wide eyed and quiet but she shakes Steve's hand when he offers it. The camera crew and Nev and Max are all carefully respectful and a bit awed. They end up sitting on top of the picnic table, Bucky leaning into Steve.

"So you're Captain America," Nev says. The camera is behind him, red light glowing. They had asked Steve, right after the initial shock had worn off, if he wanted them to turn it off. He had said no, firmly. Very Captain America-like.

"Steve Rogers," Steve says. He turns to Bucky. "I really didn't lie about anything. I’m just Steve.”

Bucky nods. "I knew that even when we thought you could be a guy named Sam."

Steve frowns. "Sam?" he echoes.

"Your phone is registered to a guy named Sam Wilson," Max explains.

Steve's face clears. "Oh!" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two phones. One is an iPhone and the other is a glossy, high tech larger device that almost looks like it could double for a home base to run a war. "This is the phone I use for work,” he says of the shiny high-tech phone. “And this is the phone I use for Bucky. Sam Wilson is a buddy of mine. I was in the hospital for awhile after Hydra in DC and Sam went and bought me a new phone. Mine's somewhere in the Potomac. I got a new work phone from Stark later but I liked having one phone that was just for Bucky." He smiles and it's sweet and bashful.

"What about that night you stood Bucky up on the date?"

Steve ducks his head, his hair flashes blonde in the afternoon sunlight. "I'm so sorry about that. I really am. I wanted to be there. But we got a call about a Hydra base in Africa and I flew out that morning. I felt terrible. You can ask anyone on my team." He turns and faces Bucky directly and his eyes are so so blue. "I was ready. I was going to meet you. Then the mission didn't go well and I kept thinking that you hadn't signed up for any of this. I got scared."

He reaches out and Bucky takes his hand.

"I get it. I was really hurt that day. But I get it." His thumb strokes down the side of Steve's fingers, feels the rough calluses and the delicate tips and thinks of all the little cartoons Steve had sent him. "You were sending me pictures of yourself," he realizes out loud. "You were telling me who you were. I just didn't realize you were also telling me that Captain America was you."

Steve laughs a little. "Every time you teased me about him..."

Bucky grins, the flush of happiness isn't going away. He leans in and Steve licks his lips.

Nev clears his throat. "We'll, uh. Wrap up here. I don't think you guys need us anymore."

The camera is already shutting down.

A producer that Bucky hasn't talked to before steps forward. If he had a hat, he’d be twisting it in his hands. "Captain Rogers, we'll reach out to your people and hand over all the recordings. If we had known… we would never want to violate your privacy..."

Steve shakes his head. "I knew what I was walking into. I googled you guys after I got the call.” He pauses. "Yes, I know how to google. It's not that hard. With Bucky… well, I’ve been thinking about being more public for some time now. This just presented itself. There might be some logistical things to work out, but I want this to air. If," he hesitates and his thumb pushes into Bucky's hand and he turns his head so he’s looking right at him. "If Bucky's okay with it too, that is."

Bucky looks into his earnest eyes and nods. How could he say no?

He stays quiet, watches the cameras get packed into black bags and the crew climb into their cars. Nev gives him a hug and Max gives him a half armed squeeze. They both shake Steve’s hand, standing up tall and straight like they’re at attention. It's starting to get colder, sun vanishing behind the clouds hanging around the horizon. Steve is warm and solid and real against him.

"I told Becca," he tells Steve quietly when the crew is gone and it's just them and Becca sitting on the picnic table. "I told Becca that I would be okay without you, if you weren’t real, and it was true. But this. This is so much better."

Steve wraps an arm around him. “I wanted for this for so long, I promise. I never meant to hurt you by staying away.”

“I know. I believe you.” Bucky picks at his jeans. There’s so much to say. A thousand questions and promises and little things and Bucky can’t make any of them come out of his mouth.

Becca clears her throat. “So… where’s your shield?”

Bucky says, “Becca!” at the same time Steve laughs.

“My friends… they wouldn’t let me come alone. They’re down the road waiting for me. Probably listening in, honestly. I left my shield there. It felt weird carrying it into this.”

“Your friends? They know about this?” Bucky asks. “About me?”

Steve nods. “One of them, Natasha, she’s been trying to get me to do this for awhile. They all want to meet you. Both of you. Whenever you’re ready.”

Bucky grins. His sister is gaping because _the Black Widow wants to meet them_ and Steve’s hand is rubbing his side and there’s a whole future ahead of him, just his for the taking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left to go!
> 
> Thank you for all of the feedback! It's very appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

In the end, the episode of Catfish where Bucky meets Steve never airs.

Steve never stops maintaining that it’s what he wants… but MTV’s lawyers get involved and then the Avenger’s lawyers (Tony Stark’s lawyers, really) get involved and there’s red tape and security forms and concerns about talking about forums where Captain America is a member and concerns about discussing the contents of Captain America’s texts and concerns about whether or not Captain America has two phones. Surprisingly, for Bucky, there are very few concerns about Captain America being bisexual. Stark’s lawyers already knew… and MTV’s lawyers are MTV’s lawyers.

Steve just wants no one to talk about it and to have the episode just air like any other episode of Catfish - about six months in the future - with no fanfare or publicity. MTV says no. The lawyers say no. Bucky shrugs because he wants Steve to be happy.

Instead, three weeks after the episode filmed, Steve has a sit down with Katie Couric during primetime where selected clips from the episode air. It’s broadcast live, simultaneously, on ABC and MTV with Nev and Max introducing the interview.

Steve tells the nation about his sexuality in a calm, steady voice. Bucky comes in at the very end to sit next to Steve and hold his hand. Steve wears his uniform and sits up straight and his shield leans next to him the whole time. He talks about honesty and faith and love and being true to yourself and loyalty. And, there's a moment when he looks at Bucky, when all his emotions show bare and vulnerable on his face for the entire nation to see. That moment is captured and, on Twitter, the picture gains the most views in 24 hours of any in history.

Steve Rogers and Captain Bimerica and Bucky Barnes all trend on Twitter and MTV’s home page crashes.

The second interview Steve does, just a day later, is with Max and it's broadcast live on MTV. Bucky gets to be out there the entire time for that one. Steve wears a t-shirt and jeans and he grins, happy and free and so so young. Bucky wears his hair back in a ponytail and elbows Steve in the stomach when he gets too serious. It's easy and freeing and Bucky thinks that this is the happiest he's ever been.

They play newlywed games, because this is MTV, and get to help pick their couple name, and take call-in questions from around America. (Steve flushes all the way down to his chest when someone calls in and asks if he’s still a virgin).

They make out like teenagers in the car that drives them from the studios to Bucky’s little apartment in Brooklyn. That night, Steve sits at his kitchen table and they eat pizza out of the box and curl up together on the sofa and Steve draws in his little sketchbook and Bucky works on his homework and Bucky thinks that if this is the rest of his life, it’ll be perfect.

Steve had been right though. Things weren't always easy.

Within three days of the interviews airing, Bucky is forced to move into the Avengers Tower just to get away from the paparazzi. Someone found out where his apartment was and he walks out for his first class of the day and is greeted by a dozen flashes and shouted questions. So, the next morning, he packs a bag and a sleek black car drives him over the bridge. At the Tower, he has his own set of rooms (bigger than his apartment and his sister's combined) with a view of Manhattan because Steve doesn't want to pressure him to move in together.

That lasts less than half of the first night. After that, he wakes up to Steve’s bedhead and their feet twined together. His clothes are intermingled with Steve's in the drawer, their toothbrushes lay together on the sink, and their socks are forever getting mixed up.

He ends up having to drop out of community college in Brooklyn for about the same reason - plus the commute from Manhattan to Brooklyn is a pain when there's paparazzi following him and Bucky refuses to take the helicopter, as Steve suggests once.

He also refuses to let Steve's friend, Sam, fly him across the city in his arms. Because Sam has wings. That's a thing.

Steve and he go on runs in the morning, together, now. Sometimes Sam comes. Steve paces himself to Bucky; until the end, where Bucky sits himself by the pond in Central Park and nods his head and relaxes while Steve laps the whole park in just minutes. He loves when Steve finishes, collapsing next to him, breathing hard and wind blown and smiling like his life couldn't be any better.

Whenever Steve has to get dressed up and go to some bigwig event, Bucky comes as well. He dresses up in a fancy black suit with his left arm neatly pinned and stands at Steve's shoulder while the parade of politicians and socialites wavers by. It's not the most fun they could be having. (He does like walking the red carpet with Steve, hand in hand, everyone knowing that Steve is his.)

Steve still draws him cartoons, little caricatures and sappy notes, leaves them on the nightstand when he has to go into work while Bucky's still asleep. Bucky keeps them all in his nightstand drawer.

(He doesn't tell Steve, but he also saves all the paparazzi photos of them together to his phone: getting out of a car with Steve's hand at the small of his back, eating ice cream on little white tables outside a cafe, walking down the street with their hands tucked together, walking into a restaurant and Steve is just looking at Bucky as he holds the door open.)

The first time Bucky meets Tony Stark, he gets tongue tied, much to Steve's amusement. He fumbles and drops his phone and turns bright red and Tony laughs and shakes his hand.

"I don't mean to pry," Tony says, completely lying. "But why don't you have a prosthesis?"

"I do. It's just. It's bulky. And it hurts. And I can't use it for much and I'm getting by just fine without it."

Tony hmms and wanders away like he's bored with Bucky. Steve reassures him that this is completely normal.

The first time Steve leaves on an overnight mission with his team, Bucky calls his sister to the Tower and they spend the day wrapped in blankets on their massive couch, watching Netflix. He jumps every time his phone buzzes and, every time he closes his eyes, he envisions Steve blown to bits by an explosion he doesn't see coming.

Rationally, he knows Steve has been doing this for a long time without Bucky worrying over him and, part of the advantage of having a super soldier for a boyfriend, is that very little could actually incapacitate Steve. But he still worries.

Also, he feels idle and useless, doesn't like puttering around the Tower with nothing to do but eat, work out, and watch TV.

So when Steve comes home, safe and sound, Bucky tells him he's decided to re-enroll in classes. This time at a school much closer to Avengers Tower.

A few months go by and the public interest hubbub has mostly calmed down. He thinks Steve has Tony set up surveillance in the classrooms of his new college somehow - but he never asks and Steve never tells.

He talks to Sam a lot. Sam's quiet voice is reassuring and soothing and he gets Bucky connected with some therapy groups in Manhattan.

When the holidays come and Bucky received an oddly shaped, long package from Tony Stark, he expects some embarrassing sex toy and a crack about a super soldier's dick (which, for the record, is perfect, thank you very much). When he opens it, and a metal arm gleams from the wrapping with real fingers and a thumb and delicate working along the wrist and the elbow, he's speechless.

Steve is taken aback too, staring down at the arm and then back up at Bucky, like he's not sure how to respond.

"It's a prototype," Stark says, brusquely. "So don't go thanking me yet. And if you. If you don't want it, don't worry about it either."

When Bucky wordlessly hugs Tony tight, the other man falls silent and then pats his back.

"Well I had to do something to thank you for extracting that stick from Cap's ass, didn't I?" he says, eyes on the floor.

Steve splutters, turns bright red, and Bucky grins.

It takes a few weeks and a couple surgeries but Tony's work is better than good. Bucky's reaching and grabbing and he can feel Steve's pulse with the metal hand and stroke his hair and hold a pencil. It's an engineering marvel and Bucky finds himself staring down, wondering at how his life has gone.

His classes are going well and Bucky feels productive and happy and he has Steve. And there’s an amazing view from the floor to ceiling window in their bedroom.

It's only six months later when Bucky gets the call from Sam that he's been dreading for months. Steve's been shot during a mission in Italy. Twice. In the chest. One bullet hit his lung.

Bucky paces at the landing deck until the quinjet lands. Steve's been in and out of consciousness since it happened. He came to once, halfway back, just long enough to mumble 'I love you' into the video call.

The quinjet opens and they rush Steve out, barely conscious on a gurney. There's blood on the bandages around his chest and blood on Natasha's hands and blood on the floor of the quinjet below where he had been laying. Bucky holds his hand as they jog to Medical, wraps his fingers right around Steve's and clenches hard, feeling the pulse beneath his fingers. He presses a kiss to Steve's forehead before they take him to the operating room, stares hard into the slitted blue eyes. He says, "I love you" and then Steve is whisked away.

After they remove the bullets, Steve is pale and strained and quiet in the bed and Bucky sleeps on the chair next to him and watches the bullet wounds heal over three long days and still thinks, _too close too close_.

When Steve is out of medical and sleeping peacefully back in their rooms, Bucky goes down to the shooting range and chooses a sniper rifle from the rack. He sets himself up and feels the familiar stillness washing over him. His metal arm supports the gun smoothly. He breathes in. Breathes out. And the target's head explodes in paper.

He goes to Sam a week later, after he's snuck down to the shooting range several times, and asks him how he thinks Steve would react to Bucky joining the Avengers.   He was a soldier once and he will be a soldier again, for Steve.

Sam laughs and tells him to be sure and give him a head start so Sam can be out of the city when Barnes tells Steve.

The next day, before Bucky has a chance to even start grilling the steaks he plans to feed Steve so he can get him in a meat coma before he drops the news, Hydra launches an attack in South America.

Steve puts on his uniform and ducks out before it's even light outside, promising to stay safe.

The team's only gone what feels like minutes before the Tower warnings go off and Bucky realizes that the South America attack had been a diversion, just as a smoking canister rolls into his living room and the world goes fuzzy.

He doesn't remember much. He wakes up with a cold table under his back and his metal arm gone and his head hurting. He wakes up to harsh lights and rough fingers. He wakes up and a hard voice tells him to talk and he hears Steve's voice, tinny over a cellphone speaker, saying his name and asking him to hold on and promising to get him back.

Later, he wakes up and things are blurry and he feels hollow.

Later, he wakes up and his muscles are burning.

Later, he wakes up and thinks, _I'm sorry, Steve. It wasn't supposed to go like this. It wasn't._

The hurt grows and grows and there’s bright light all around him and he thinks he’s dying. He feels flayed and raw and pulled apart. _  
_

He drifts. He dreams. Half imagined terrors and hopes. The whole of his life before Steve (the desert and the pain and the fear and his sister crying and his parents gone and the gun in his hands, explosions in his ears) and after Steve (his warm voice on the phone and the texts and the pictures and Steve and finally finally seeing Steve that day in the park, sunshine on blonde hair and blue blue eyes and standing so tall and their first kiss and Steve saying I love you for the first time and holding Steve's hand on national TV and knowing his life was never ever going to be the same again).

He tries to linger in the happiness of that moment as the pain batters against him.

"Bucky?" Steve’s voice, rough and hoarse, and sounding far away. It’s coming through a phone line, through a text message, Bucky’s searching in the desert and he can’t see Steve (can’t even imagine him) but he knows that voice, would know it anywhere, would know it like his own heartbeat or his own breath. It’s far away - but it’s here.

He opens his eyes.

Steve is pulling him up, cradling him to his chest and it's like a dream (the last dream he would have before death) and he shudders.

"You shouldn't be here," he says, tongue thick and heavy from dehydration in his mouth. "You shouldn't..." He feels different. They did something to him, he thinks, something unworldly and awful. His body feels not his own and his missing arm aches. What did they do to him?

Steve’s hands are real and warm, not a specter or a vision or an angel taking him into the clouds. He surrounds Bucky entirely, his rough uniform pressing to Bucky’s cheek and then a kiss is brushed over Bucky’s greasy hair. This is real. "Shhh. Shhh. It’s going to be okay. I'm getting you out of here."

Bucky shudders, clings to Steve’s wrist. He keeps his eyes closed as he’s carried what seems like a distance. Then, like the great yawning of a cave mouth, light glows behind his eyelids and fresh air fills his nose and he hears Sam and Tony and the rest of Steve’s team.

He drifts, then. He lets himself fall into sleep with Steve’s hand in his hair and his voice in his ear and the light on his face. And this time, all of the dreams are of Steve and him, together, walking into the sun.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they all lived happily ever after! (Until Tony had a vision and accidentally created a robot named Ultron) (but that's a different story)
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for all your feedback and I really hope you enjoyed this little tale!


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